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“Now that we’ve gottenthatout of our system,” Jerry starts, “we need to get down to business so that you can go home.”
“Who are you?” Sydney asks, betrayal in her voice as her eyes flicker to mine.
“I’m Jerry,” the woman beside me says as she leans against her armrest, crossing one leg over the other as her combat boot twists in the air like she’s discussing how to braid hair at a sleepover.
“Are you going to expand on that?” Sydney asks, her hands busy in her lap as she massages her fingers.
“Well, I think it’s pretty obvious we’re related.”
SIX
SYDNEY
I can’t even beginto understand what’s going on right now.
The woman in front of me has long, thick black hair with natural red roots, like she just hasn’t been to the salon for months. Freckles cover her heart-shaped face, and her piercing green eyes are the same ones I stare at every time I look in the mirror.
It’s my face.
We have the same face.
The only difference is my natural red hair, and while her nose is slightly crooked, mine isn’t. I can only imagine it was from her getting punched. I wish I could have been the one to do it.
I take a second to look around, trying to figure out what my next move is. When we first pulled up to this warehouse, I was a little worried I’d be murdered and left for dead on a dirty concrete floor. Although that’s still a reasonable possibility and something to certainly distress over, the inside of this building is nothing like I thought.
It looked massive from the outside, but it looks even bigger inside somehow.
I sit in the middle of one of the largest rooms I’ve ever seen, lined with dozens upon dozens of cars—the expensive kind, not that I could name any of them. New, old, it doesn’t matter. They’re here, parked in rows like some type of car museum.
It’s beautiful and unsettling, and I wonder why they have so many.
But I think there are bigger, more important questions to ask here.
To the right of me is a kitchen nestled against a wall that goes up about two stories high. Its industrial design perfectly fits everything else. I can’t help but admire the beams running along the walls and the large metal staircase leading up to a platform that runs across the length of the warehouse, leading to different rooms.
If I weren’t terrified out of my mind, I may find the place way cooler.
Scaffolding sits on the right, wrapped in caution tape, warning people away from the space. The second floor’s metal railing looks like it’s just been put in.
I can’t hear anything else around me at the moment, but I’m not sure if it’s because the place is quiet or if the blood rushing to my head is drowning out any other noise.
The smell of rubber, gasoline, and lavender? Surround me, and I find the scent oddly calming.
“I’ll tell you whatever I can as long as you tell me who you are,” I tell her finally, crossing my shaking hands over my chest to keep them still. My lower abdomen starts to constrict, and I close my eyes for a moment, hoping and praying it goes away.
“Well, sister, mommy and daddy dearest have been up to no good, and we need you to tell us everything you know so that we can fix it,” the woman in front of me, Jerry, I think I recall her saying her name was, says.
“Sister?” My breath catches.
“Twins, actually,” she says as she examines her nails, a bored look on her face.
“Twins?”
“Yes, that is what I just said.”
Ronan rolls his eyes next to her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. My eyes drift to his face, and the second I see the small smirk slide onto my lips, I think I’m going to be sick. How could I trust a complete stranger?
I didn’t.
